Compassion
by soupfrenzy
Summary: Comforting people isn't something Mulan is good at, but she'll have to try to fulfill Phillip's wish.


Night had fallen faster than the quad of women had thought, and it was at Snow's insistence that they stop for the night. The feisty, short haired woman had chosen a space next to a rock out cropping. Emma nodded indifferently and wandered down the southern slope in search of water or firewood, which ever she found more of first. Mulan was simply grateful they had, for once, picked a place to camp that wasn't open to attack on all sides and provided at least some natural shelter from the elements. Only Aurora fidgeted nervously as if she were expecting a wild beast to spring from the shadows at any given moment. Of course her nervousness wasn't due to any physical threat; between Mulan, Snow, and to a lesser extent, Emma, any attacker would meet a swift end. Aurora dreaded the night and her time to sleep because with it came the nightmares and they were becoming more frequent as time continued on. They had even begun impacting the nightly watch rotation. At first Aurora insisted after sleeping for near thirty years that she didn't require sleep and she would take the night watch on her own. That lasted all of a week. Aurora was dead on her feet and needed to rest; though when she did, she was plagued with phantom fire and the threat of burning alive. She awoke panicked and near inconsolable every time. As such, Snow took the first watch so that she, being the most nurturing of the women, could comfort Aurora to sleep when she needed it. Next was Emma, who insisted since she had a child that she could "mother" Aurora back to sleep when she awoke frightened. That left Mulan last, and she was fine with that because when Aurora woke, Mulan would simply go to her bedroll and leave Aurora to the final watch.

As the embers from the small campfire burned down, Mulan contemplated the silence surrounding her as she pushed the small whetstone in tight circular motions down the edge of her sword. It wasn't as ideal as having a master blacksmith at her disposal but she had become accustom to the slow and rigorous work since being away from any sort of established village for so long. She marveled at the blade's fine edge; sharpening it could hardly be considered work at all. It truly was the most powerful sword in all the realms. Forged for her grandfather's grandfather and passed through the bloodline, the blade only dulled every one hundred days. It could cut through enemy steel like fire through silk, and its wielder's grip would never falter. Strength, devotion, and honor; these spilled from the man who forged the blade like sweat and blood on a battlefield into the molten steel that would become part of her family's legacy. With every life it took and every soul it saved, the sword became stronger and Mulan could feel it resonate through her body and adhere to her bones, and she felt as if she were wielding the power of life and death itself. It was with apprehension that she first picked up the sword from her father's armory, and it was with pride that she held it now. The memory of that day burned her heart, and she held the shining blade to her chest in a silent prayer to her ancestors' spirits who were believed to inhabit the blade. She thanked them for protecting her and giving her strength to carry out Phillip's last wish.

A rustling of blankets and a whimper broke off Mulan's prayer. Aurora stirred early, far too early to take over watch, and Mulan hadn't even the time to collect more wood to replace what had burned down. The warrior swallowed hard, she knew she couldn't just let Aurora take over this early, but also didn't know what to do to calm her down and sooth her back into sleep. She had watched Snow do it so many times, but Mulan wasn't gentle the way she was. She couldn't sit there and pet Aurora's head as if she were a kitten or coo to her like a babe. She just didn't possess any sort of comforting skill because such skills were impractical for a warrior like her. Another shaky whimper came and Mulan glanced over her shoulder to Aurora, the girl she had spent twenty eight years waiting to find. That fabled creature that Phillip had spoken everyday about; every detail of her face, her laugh, the way she danced, what fruit she preferred above others. It was enough to make a sane person ill, but Phillip was her friend and she would indulge him to the fullest.

In truth Mulan pitied Aurora. Pitied her for her love, and pitied her for her loss. She was a child, cursed in so many ways. Doomed to sleep until true love's kiss woke her, only to have that love, the last thing she held onto for support, the last thing she had at all, torn away from her. Mulan had lost much over the course of her years; her family, her home, her honor. Aurora had lost everything in a day. Mulan couldn't fathom what that must feel like, to wake up to a cursed world and have its weight crush you. It would have broken even the strongest warrior, and when a person broke like that they needed someone to care for them. Phillip would have cared for Aurora, comforted her, stroked her hair and told her everything would be alright. He couldn't now; he was gone. He was gone and he put his trust and faith in Mulan to keep his beloved safe from all harm.

Again, Mulan pitied Aurora for the warrior didn't have a compassionate bone left in her body. It was gone; cut out by the blades of war. When in battle, you couldn't feel sympathy for the man running toward you with his sword drawn. It was your life or his. There was no time to consider another man's feelings on the subject of dying, much less your own. You were too busy wiping the blood out of your own eyes to reach over and do it for the man standing next to you. Nights in the camps where filled with the wails of the maimed and dying. Mulan had heard too many men cry out to their gods, their mothers, or to anyone, so they wouldn't die alone. Those cries shattered souls and the only way to save your own was to not listen. Mulan had mourned so many of them before she learned better. Sometimes you just had to stop caring.

Mulan's thoughts fell back to Phillip, the poor love sick fool. She had cared for him, but caring wasn't the same as love, and Aurora was foolish to think that. Phillip had come to Mulan when she was at a crossroads. She was alone, wandering, and taking jobs in villages that were far below her. When she had nearly grown complacent in the rut of her life's path, he had extended an allied hand and given her a purpose again. That was the first time he had saved her and it would be the first of many times she was thankful for him being there when he was. Throughout their time together, Mulan and Phillip had taken their turns watching over one another at night, pushing the other out of an archer's line of sight, or offering up the last bit of water in their water skins. They shared their lives with one another for so many years that when Phillip divulged to Mulan his plan to rescue his cursed love, she had offered her companionship to him on his quest without hesitation. He tried to argue with her, the fool, telling her that she wasn't honor bound to follow him. She argued back that indeed she wasn't, she was going to help him because he was her friend.

She had cared for him too much and losing him had burned her heart for days. What was worse was that she allowed it, only recently forcing the pain back down and locking it away. That's what compassion had gotten her. Hurt. No one liked pain and those who said they did were lying.

Hearing Aurora shift again and let out an audible sob, Mulan sheathed her sword and stood up. Stepping over Emma, who was sprawled out, face down and drooling into the dirt, she walked quietly to the simple tent which was set against the rock outcropping. It had gotten to the point of ridiculous. If she kept thrashing, she would wake Snow and Emma, and then they would make worse time due to tiredness. As it was, they were already wandering through the wilderness with a mad witch hunting them and even at their best, there was always the chance of getting caught. Being caught because no one could keep a proper watch was unacceptable.

"Princess," Mulan whispered harshly as she poked Aurora in the shoulder. It didn't take much to wake the slumbering princess. Her eyes snapped open, blood shot and bewildered, and focused on Mulan.

"Oh, Mulan," Aurora sniffled and grabbed at Mulan's leg, resting her cheek against the warrior's leather clad knee. "The nightmares, they won't stop."

Mulan froze. This is exactly what she dreaded. The contact. She was stuck, confused on what to do. Her hand hovered over Aurora's hair but she hesitated on the downward stroke. Should she just let her hand rest on the auburn locks in a sign of stability? Or did she caress and sooth? Mulan was sure that's what Snow did, a soft sweeping motion. She was so uncertain. This was just her luck, Mulan thought. Tracking the Yaoguai may have taken weeks, but this was proving far more difficult. Things were much easier traveling with Philip. If he had a nightmare, Mulan would knock him in the shoulder and tell him to stop being a baby. Some hidden intuition inside of her told Mulan that Aurora would not take kindly to similar treatment.

"Can you stay? I don't want to go back to sleep alone." Aurora's voice was soft and meek, and it made Mulan's chest clench in an odd way.

The steadfast warrior sighed inwardly. Nightmares were simply a problem she couldn't cut through. Or could she? There was once a soldier she shared a tent with - it was by no choice of her own, but she wasn't in the position to protest - and he had a very peculiar habit. He would sleep with his sword tucked under his head. It was several weeks before Mulan had finally worked up the nerve to ask him why. What he told her had made her laugh at first. He slept with his sword under his head because it kept away nightmares, and when you were at war nightmares were plentiful. A strong blade could protect you not just on the battlefield. His father had told him so, and his father before him. When Mulan had scoffed, the solider had simply shrugged and claimed six generations of honorable warriors couldn't be wrong. Thinking back to it now, Mulan had far more restless night than her tent mate ever did.

As is the truth about dire situations, the most foolish of ideas shine the most brilliantly. Mulan wasn't one to crusade such a childish idea, but desperate as she was, she was willing to give it a shot. It was her job to protect Aurora, and by her ancestors she was going to do it. Mulan reached for her sword belt, prying open the buckle and slipping it from around her waist.

Aurora tilted her head up to watch Mulan's movements, her eyes sleep filled, but hopeful. "You're staying?"

"No. It wouldn't be wise to leave the camp without a watchful eye. Lift up you head." Confused, but obedient, for once, the fair princess shifted and lifted her head from Mulan's knee. She watched as her protector laid her sword down with the utmost care, and then unceremoniously plopped a pillow down on top of it. Before Aurora could ask what exactly Mulan meant to do, she spoke.

"I knew a man once, he always slept with his sword under his head. He swore it kept his nightmares away."

"Did it?" Aurora asked.

"I have never tried it myself, but he seemed to think it would, as long as the blade was strong." Mulan looked down at the sword, touching its hilt in thought.

"And your swords is…?" The princess didn't seem too sure of the notion, but sleep was still clouding her mind and she began to lower herself back down to the pillow without forethought.

"My sword is the most powerful sword in all the realms," Mulan said with no inflation of pride. "The sword master who forged it did so from metal dug from the earth by the Great Dragon, and hardened by a mountain's fire. Four generations of my family have carried it to battle and when the blade touches the wind, it sings of our honor and glory on the fields of war. It has slain generals in two Ogre Wars and has brought peace to my village as well as the lands surrounding it."

Mulan looked down just then to see Aurora with her eyes closed, her finger ghosting over the golden hushou, tracing the carved pattern of the dragon's face. In that moment, control lost to her, Mulan let her fingers run softly through Aurora's hair, pushing back from her face which was easing into sleep.

"If there was any sword that could fight your nightmares, Princess, it would be mine."

Staying kneeled at the princess's side until she was satisfied that she had done her best for Aurora, and that she wouldn't again wake, Mulan quietly got up to assume her duty. She walked back to the fire, taking Snow's quiver of arrows and bow with her. It wouldn't be wise to protect the camp with no weapon in hand. It may not have been as good as her sword, but it would do.

Glancing back over her shoulder, Mulan watched as Aurora turned in her sleep but did not wake. The warrior smiled. She had done her job well, and her family's sword was again victorious. There was a warmness in her chest from knowing that she had found a way to comfort Aurora. She had done what she thought was impossible to her. Perhaps she did still have a bone of compassion in her body, it was just broken, and like all breaks it just needed time to heal.


End file.
